


a treatise on heroism

by haarucchii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Hero Worship, Kind of Body Horror ish, Kind of dark, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is a villain but not in the way you think, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Shance Big Bang 2017, Shiro (Voltron) is Missing, Well... A Slightly Better Ending, ish, lowkey keitor if you squint, mostly Lance-centric, not too much romance here but kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 22:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12542168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haarucchii/pseuds/haarucchii
Summary: The Garrison School for Young Heroes is a anonymous school meant for heroes of the future, the anonymity helps their future identities stay protected and away from the harm of villains making attempts at the young heroes or their families. It’s in tie with the Garrison Military School, where kids study normally and keep their own civilian identities.Lance had been denied acceptance, but there’s something about his rejection that the Garrison isn’t telling him. Shiro, codename: Supernova, is the greatest hero of their generation. And Keith, ID-number: 61020260, is on his way to being Shiro’s equal on terms of power.But Shiro disappears and Keith drops out in the middle of the night at the Garrison's refusal for a search party. The city hasn’t faced darker time in their lives.And what does Lance do after Shiro's disappearance? He drops out of the Garrison Military School to become one of the city’s greatest villains.





	a treatise on heroism

**Author's Note:**

> SO GUYS i have been working on this for over a course of a few months, and i hope that this is good enough for the shance fandom, which deserves so many good fics and art!!!!

Miser slides his hand into the fitted leather of his gloves, swirling his hand until crystals of ice form together to create a small sculpture that he can picture in his mind. He holds the star in his hand, lifts it in the air, and watches it crack and break apart, the shards ringing and falling from his suspended position in the sky. 

 

He creates a blizzard in the same moment, then summons a mini-tsunami from the coast side, letting the water build and rise to an apex to let it drop in a moment. 

 

The residents of the Aquis suffer, but he’s just getting started as he sees the newly-licensed professional heroes strut up to him with unrefined powers and an urge to be the saviour to the people. Miser had a dream like that before. They wear differing looks on their faces as they size Miser up and flare their own abilities. An elemental type— earth, Miser observes,— someone with super strength, and another with kind eyes and a shaking stance. Miser could see himself in them, but the new hero fumbles and a small piece of metal flies into their hand. Ah, he sees. 

 

He stares at the heroes with a smile, and he summons hail to pour down and pelt them. The geokinectic’s arms rise and a wall of earth rises from the concrete to protect them and the other two. Miser hums. 

 

He pulls water from the rising wave behind him and throws it on the ground, the water turning a murky dark before turning into black ice under the heroes’ feet. The ferrokinetic slips and Miser grimaces at the way the super-strength hero yells at their teammate. With a flick of his finger, water sprays down and black ice freezes the, comparatively, strongest teammate down. They immediately try to fight and break, but Lance has perfected his ice manipulation. 

 

It’ll take a while. 

 

For a little game, he closes his eyes and sings to the water that responds back. It climbs up Super Strength’s calves to their thighs and higher. This’ll keep them distracted. 

 

A large chunk of titanium covered concrete flies past Miser in an attempt to disable him, but the water surges and breaks the momentum before it can reach him. He hums his thanks, and leans back in the air and snaps his fingers. 

 

Around the geokinetic’s hands, a case of ice forms and climbs up their body, just like with Super Strength. They struggle, but Miser smiles and tightens the bond. From the corner of his eye, Super Strength is still struggling to break down the first layer. The Ferrokinetic is shaking pretty badly now, Lance almost feels pity for the young hero— sent out in the world without any guidance and without any chance of winning. 

 

Miser crushes that pity stirring in his chest and views the ferrokinetic as they are— his enemy.

 

He stops the tsunami at its apex and uses the collection of water to create a blizzard with a circular motion; the snow falls looking like ashes from Miser’s influence, then creates a typhoon with the water vapour surrounding him. He feels the power of the water under his finger tips and imagines what he wants them to do. His hand stretches out and the water obeys his command, but not before teasingly freezing his finger tips in a display of rebellion. 

 

He freezes the heroes in black ice, leaves them stuck with their heads out and hearts pounding. Two out of the three are crying, frustrated and disappointed in themselves, as the ferrokinetic is looking at him with squinted eyes and a calculating gaze. He doesn’t kill them. They have their lives to live, and it isn’t his purpose to end those lives that were given. He waits for the Garrison to arrive with the heroes that have been pros for years, bones weary from break and hearts hardened by battle. He leaves the new heroes shocked that a villain, as young as he is, appearing stronger than the pros that have yet been able to defeat him either. A year ago, they would’ve had a chance. But now… there’s only going to be two people in his life that can come close to defeating Miser now. He’s refined and trained himself to that point of power.

 

It sucks that they’re both dead now. To Miser and to the world. So sad, for Supernova and Firestrom. 

 

His mask is frozen at the edges when he feels his blood start to form crystals in his fingers, and he knows he has pushed himself too far. He pulls his hands back and feels his teeth start to chatter at the expense of his gaudy display of power. He escapes with City Bank’s money with a threat on his tongue and returns home to his crappy lair that the money will definitely be used to pay rent for. 

 

He removes his mask off his face, and in the mirror, staring back at him, with blue eyes blazing like clear water and ice on the tips of his hair, Lance touches his face and sighs in exhaustion. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

–

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

Walking outside the next morning in broad daylight doesn’t feel as weird as it shouldl, knowing that he’s one of the greatest rising villains rising up the ranks towards the Most Dangerous Persons list. Lance knows that no one will recognize him anyways; the kid struggling to pay student loans wouldn’t be Mr. Miser, the second most destructive hero the country has ever seen.

 

He opens his burner phone and thinks about the Garrison— he thinks about Hunk and Pidge, worrying their minds for a five minute phone call that Lance keeps making because his life is too lonely alone now. He still isn’t used to being alone, but they answer him and talk as if he was gone for a trip rather than off the map being the greatest villain. Pidge talks about ways to make Lance’s gear more efficient so he can not get caught, but he always refuses. He can’t get her tied up in this, not when he’s in so deep already. 

 

He looks at the time on his watch, an inexpensive digital watch he bought from the last drug store he was in. He felt bad for what happened back there, since the cashier gave him an exasperated look for the hundred dollar bill Lance had handed for a fifteen dollar purchase, but if only they knew. Lance can smell the scent of the coffee shop baking its fresh pastries, and he hears the sound of Jenkin’s old mutt barking out beside the cafe down the street for some scraps.

 

He likes this part of town, despite the fact that two blocks away is his crap apartment and crime central. Three streets away, police cars surround the City Bank of Aquis and police interview the bankers and customers. 

 

Lance opens his burner phone and dials a familiar number. It rings twice, three times, and it’s just about to ring for the fourth time when Hunk picks up and starts spewing his spiel about how Lance is, how they are, how they saw him in the news and how they warned him to be more careful. 

 

“Hunk, bud,” Lance tries to calm him down, “I’m fine, you’re fine, and I’m not caught just yet so there isn’t anything to worry about.” 

 

“Still!” Hunk whines. “Don’t think I didn’t see your fingers and your mask! You overused it again.” 

 

“Don’t be a dumbass,” Pidge chimes. 

 

“Yeah! Don’t be stupid, buddy. Did you get back to your place safely?” 

 

“Yes, I did.” Lance rolls his eyes. “Hunk, I’ve been doing this for over a year! Give me some more credit.” 

 

He thinks about Hunk fretting over cooking Lance’s favourite food in the communal kitchen, while Pidge looks at their other burner phone that connected with Lance’s in anxiety. “You can’t use your hydrokinesis for the next two days, maybe longer, if you keep on exerting yourself like this.” 

 

“I’ll be fine, Pidge. Stop running calculations that you don’t need to run just yet.” Lance waves his hand in the air in dismissal, despite the kid-genius not being able to see it. “I don’t have anything planned for a while, at least until some plans fall through.”

 

“Plans which are…?” Hunk questions, and Lance can imagine the way his eyes narrow when he knows that Lance is scheming in some way. 

 

“Plans which are not to be explained yet, bud, sorry,” Lance says, making eye contact with a cop and turning on his heel to the bakery. “Hey, I’ll give them the ol’ razzle dazzle, okay?” It’s a keyword, and Hunk sighs dramatically on his end.

 

“Be careful, Lance.” Hunk says. 

 

“Call back soon, okay?” Pidge says, voice barely stable.

 

“I’ll try my best,” Lance says, but he knows that it’s way too risky to keep calling them now. He turns the corner into an alley behind the bakery and freezes the phone to smash  it into bits. The cop is waiting for him outside, so he ditches the cafe and takes the long way home.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

–

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

Lance doesn’t go to school anymore, but he’s old enough to get a part time job as a barkeep in the early hours of the morning and the dead of the night. It fits well with his day job, and most of the customers are either bar hopping or regulars that know of Lance even before he started out. 

 

Blaytz, the old man who’s been the owner of the Blue Lion for nearly 30 years, treats Lance as if he’s his son. 

 

It’s not a surprise when students drop out of the Garrison Military School when they get their dreams crushed. Lance had his dreams crushed more than a year ago, but Klein didn’t need to know that when Lance arrived at his bar in tears begging for a job. Blaytz pities young cadets, and gets him on the payroll almost immediately after realizing that Lance used to be one of his regulars. 

 

(Though, Blaytz did give him a reproachful look when Lance says that he just recently turned twenty a few weeks ago.)

 

Keith Kogane is sitting in the bar down Lance’s way, and Lance wonders with a sardonic sense of humor if Keith remembers the way he took Lance’s dream from right under him. For a moment, Lance looks at Keith and sees hair grown to the bottom of his head, sharp eyes just as fiery as his inability to control his pyrokinesis. 

 

“What can I get you?” Lance purrs, wiping a glass clean and setting it front of Keith. The other looks at him with cool eyes, lips turned up into a smirk as he leans forward. Lance mimics the action, sharp eyes keeping contact as the other drop out looks at their surroundings in lazy caution. 

 

“Your real name, Mr. Miser,” Keith Kogane says, and Lance’s lips turn up. 

 

“You know it somewhere in that big brain of yours, Firestrom.” Lance hums, and Keith leans back in thinly veiled surprised. “Want a rum and coke? Maybe then you’ll figure it out.” 

 

“Gin and tonic,” Keith corrects with narrowed eyes. Lance nods and walks away, lips turned up in a smirk. 

 

When he puts his cup in front of Keith, the words are written in small crystals of black ice that Keith nearly melts with the heat of his body. 

 

_ Talk to me later. _

_ Miser _ .

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

— 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Meeting Keith again reminds Lance of the Garrison. 

 

He isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. 

 

The Galaxy Garrison Military School for Young Adults is one of the more prestigious schools in the country, having over a hundred sister schools all over the work as well as twenty branches in the United States alone. But there was a reason why the Garrison was one of best schools in the country. 

 

There was something within the walls of the school, something everyone knew but only few got to experience. 

 

The Galaxy Garrison School for Young Heroes. 

 

(Lance had a chance, but they pulled the rug from under him and left him writhing on the ground.)

 

He wanted to melt the entire building to the ground. He wanted to take the moisture from the air and to kill the instructors who prohibited him from reaching his dreams. He wanted to make a dome of rain that will never reach them, and make it scalding hot for anyone who tried to escape.

 

Lance imagines Iverson on his knees, single eye wide and gleaming with tears. Lance can feel himself smile, hand rising as well as the blades of ice in perfect synchronization. 

 

He imagines swinging his hand down. 

 

He imagines Iverson’s other eye being carved out, ice digging into his skin and letting blood seep and cool around the black ice. The  _ squelch _ of skin breaking and digging deep and searing Iverson’s skin the moment the tip of the black ice melts and boils. 

 

He imagines Supernova, staring down at him in surprise. He imagines Supernova reaching out to Lance, body scarred by the Garrison’s negligence, “This isn’t you,” Superno-  _ no _ \- Shiro, says. He was rescued by them again, but abandoning his own ideals. Shiro is looking down at him with distrust in his eyes and betrayal. 

 

All Lance wants to do is grab his collar and pull him close, whispering words that are soundless to his imagination but make fake-Shiro’s eyes widen impossibly more. 

 

He thinks of grabbing Shiro and taking him away from the Garrison, away from selfish  _ assholes _ who decide to ruin dreams and souls in hopes to create a perfect, obedient so-called ‘hero’. Well, if a hero is what they wanted to mold, a villain is what he will become. 

 

When Lance thinks of the Garrison, he thinks of Shiro’s black and white spandex outfit that was made specifically for him because his clothes kept breaking apart because of his power. When Lance thinks of Shiro, he thinks of Keith following behind him in the ugly Garrison uniform then to a fireproof outfit of dark reds and blacks swirling. When Lance thinks of the both of them, he wonders if Shiro would’ve smiled back at Lance the way he did to Keith, and Lance wonders if Shiro would even give him the time of day if they were both in the Garrison. 

 

Lance opens his eyes, and he sees fiery eyes stare straight into his cold ones. He doesn’t say anything, so Lance turns around and fakes another smile at another customer who doesn’t know a single thing about their bartender. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

— 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

He meets Keith outside the bar at 4 am. The man with the fire power standing with his back to the brick wall of the Blue Lion. The sun is barely shining and the alley is nearly pitch black, save for the crappy light that flickers in and out every time it gets shaken.

 

“I haven’t seen you in nearly six months,” Lance says, “I thought you died.” 

 

“Could say the same for you, McClain.” Keith gives the barest hint of a smile, but they’re both too tense for any type of familiarity. “Didn’t expect you to try and rule the country, though.” Rain begins to fall, but it avoids the area Lance and Keith reside in. The pelting of rain extinguishes the light. A moment later, the smallest fire is lit with Keith’s pinky finger. It illuminates both their faces, heating them up. 

 

“I bet I could do better than a cheeto puff,” Lance snarks back. “I see you’ve been gaining better control of your power.” 

 

“I had people to teach me,” Keith replies casually, position lax despite his eyes being sharp. “Though, it seems they missed out on teaching you.”

 

“Did you hear about it?” It’s a familiar feeling for Lance’s blood to run cold, but the memory of Lance’s reason of dropping out of the Garrison is vivid in his mind- his blood boils and Lance has to take deep breaths so it doesn’t burst out of his veins (the first time it happened, Hunk fainted.). Lance inhales sharply when he sees Keith’s slow nod. But he doesn’t talk about it further than that.

 

“Shiro-” Keith starts, eyes fiery once he realizes the reason why he went to visit Lance. 

 

“Supernova,” Lance corrects, but they both know that he stopped referring to the fallen hero as such. 

 

“Shiro,” Keith enunciates, “isn’t dead.” His other hand tightens into a fist and flames spark. “It’s been a year, but he’s went off longer than that. The Garrison shouldn’t have given up on him like that.”

 

“The Garrison isn’t shit,” Lance hisses. “You may think they’re a godsend for accepting you, but it’s just a biased school built on crushing people to the point of mind control. Supernova’s better off halfway close to death than back in the hands of the Garrison.” He loses control for a second and rain pelts down on them like a downpour rather than raindrops. 

 

“Aren’t you curious about whether Shiro is alive or not?”

 

“If he is alive,” Lance says, then walks past Keith and down the alley that goes onto 8th street, “I’d commend him for staying out of the Garrison’s sights for this long. Anything else, it doesn’t matter to me.” 

 

“He was your hero. Our hero—” Keith tries to say, but Lance turns around and the water around them turns into ice, even the particles of water in the air freezes and the temperature d r o p s. 

 

“He was, until he looked me in the eyes and told me that I’d be better off somewhere else,” Lance hisses out, eyes blazing and black ice forming on the wet ground before them. He stalks off, leaving Keith drenched and freezing.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

—

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Takashi Shirogane, better known as Supernova, was Lance’s senior by five years. 

 

In the five years that he had ahead of Lance, he made it count. 

 

Supernova was well known both in the hero and villain worlds.. He was named one of the most powerful solo heroes of the generation. Lance admired him as a hero, his role model. Shiro was one of the prime reasons Lance honed his hydrokinesis every moment he got–  whether it was trying to lift water from the well outside his family home or stopping  the neighbour’s sprinklers when he moved to the United States. 

 

When Lance was seven, he was in love with the ocean and cried to be apart from it. 

 

When Lance turned fifteen, he used his love and his tears to become one with the water. He feels his mind sing the song of the ocean and his fingers move with her melody. He used his complete immersiveness to save people, to use it for good because he wants to be like Supernova. To just save people for the sake of saving them, so they could never feel the heartbreak of separating from their loved ones that he felt when he moved to a sleepy California town in the middle of a drought. 

 

When he turned sixteen, his heart was broken once again at the news of his rejection. When Lance was sixteen, he heard the song of another and fell in love with grey eyes that shone like water in sunlight and a kindness that Lance wanted to keep close to his chest. Lance fell in love with the scars his favourite hero earned on the battlefield saving those who needed it, reforming new buildings that fell in disasters and breaking apart villains who dare try to fight against him. He built Lance’s heart back up again, then tore it apart when he told Lance those six words.

 

So, Lance doesn’t want to save him. Lance doesn’t want to think of Superno– Takashi Shirogane. He drops out of the Garrison once Shiro’s disappearance is declared, drops out when he realizes that the so-called heroes that he looked up to all his life didn’t care about a fellow ally– they only cared about competition for a bigger paycheck being gone. 

 

Lance realizes, three months later when he causes the best heroes to land in the hospital in critical condition, that Shiro was right. 

 

But it’s the last time he thinks of Shiro after that. 

 

He has revenge to enact after all. 

 

For himself. 

 

Only for himself.

 

His hero was dead, and so was his motivation for becoming a hero just like him. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

—— 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

The next night, Lance calls in sick for work and robs the Galactic Bank.  

 

He holds ice blades to the bankers throat and gets them to empty out the bank just moments before they were supposed to send it out. He smiles at them, cold and distant, and takes half of the money. 

 

“Remove your sponsorship from the Galaxy Garrison and I’ll let you live,” He whispers, but the banker shakes in his arms and the alarms pounding in their ears mean that Lance has less than five minutes to escape with the money. “Tell that to your bosses, and if you don’t, I’ll come back and tell them myself.” He lets go and the banker collapses on the ground. “And trust me, I’ll know.” He looks in the camera in the distance and winks. 

 

He lifts the bag filled with the bank’s money and disappears the moment the heroes appear. 

 

Another fight for another day. 

 

His fingers freeze and threaten to fall off the moment he gets home and he dumps himself in a warm bath— shivering and falling asleep in the heat of it immediately. He looks up at the murky bathroom tiles and closes his eyes. He listens to the siren ring down the streets as people drunkenly stumble down the hallway of his apartment complex in midday stupors. Lance listens to the people chatter and talk about how Miser is on par with Lotor now. 

 

Lance sits in the warmest water his building can manage and his blood threatens to erupt from his veins the moment he tries to warm it up. He hears the water violently sing in his ears and scream at his use of her. He apologizes, of course, and he feels the hesitance of the vapour in the air because it warms up for him and he sits in his dirty bathtub in his murky bathroom— 

 

And when Lance gets out, fingers pruned yet still attached to his body and body sufficiently warm, he sees the small duffel bag filled with 500,000 dollars. 

  
  
  


 

 

 

–— 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Keith drops by the pub every night after their initial meeting, eyes fiery with determination and desperation for Lance’s help. A year ago, Lance would’ve been the same way– he did act the same way. He fought officials for search parties, left in the middle of the night to conduct searches by himself and bit off more than he could chew the moment he came home  to bruised ribs and a split lip. 

 

He was beaten for asking the wrong questions. 

 

He was kicked and punched for asking questions he didn’t want the answer to. 

 

Lance dropped out of the Garrison three weeks after they refused treatment until he promised not to go on any night searches. He dropped out of the Garrison after rummaging through files, finding his name and enabling his desperation for why he was rejected from the program he dreamed of for years. All he reads is the red REJECTED stamp at his application.

 

The next morning, the final moment where he decides he should leave, he overhears Dos Santos and Montgomery talk. The memory is burned in his skin, and he sees the two of them talking to each other in the darkened hallway of Garrison’s walls— an area where students didn’t crowd around. 

 

Except for Lance. 

 

He hears the two talk in hushed whispers, pressing his body and hoping his breathing wasn’t too laboured as the suspicions were rejected and facts were put into place. On that day, Lance’s heart broke into pieces and the path he was meant to take opened up to him.

 

In less than two months, the Garrison lost three of its top students. One disappeared, two dropped out in the dead of the night.

 

Lance became a villain, and Keith disappeared. 

 

Until he didn’t. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

–— 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

The night after that, the Garrison’s records show three sponsors pulling out. 

 

(The Galactic Bank pulls out a week later, after some more persuasion on Miser’s side.)

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

–— 

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

“Just– tell me about Shiro.” Keith asks, knuckles white against his sides and the ground burning up under his feet. “I don’t know where to start, you’ve been looking for him the past year, right?”

 

“What is there to tell you about?” Lance sighs, wiping the counter down and placing the dirty rag into the sink. “ _ You _ were his student. He disappeared after assisting the dirty cops everyone warns him about, and after there have been rumors that led me nowhere about where he could have been.” He stopped his search when he realized it was futile. Keith doesn’t seem to think that he did. “You’ve been searching recently, you must know more than me.” 

 

Lance keeps the explicit details to himself, anything that could expose Keith and him to any spies or bugs in the establishment. The two of them were in the red light district of the city. it wasn’t uncommon for dirty cops or other morally-ambiguous money grabbers to grab a quick buck by catching those with bounties on their heads. 

 

“I asked around, but no one will tell me.”

 

“You won’t get anywhere asking around,” Lance replies back. “You won’t get anything if you don’t give anything in return.” He turns on the ball of his foot. “Wait for me until the end of my shift, I’m done in twenty.”`

 

Keith nods, and takes a sip out of his rum and coke. Purple eyes stare into blue for the remainder of the night. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

–— 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Soon after his visit to the Galactic Bank, Lance drops off a cheque at a high end apartment near the end of the city. 

 

At the front of the envelope, it reads:  _ Takashi Shirogan _ e.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

—— 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

“Shiro would be disappointed in you,” Keith hisses as he and Lance strolls over to the latter’s car. “Do you not care that he might be alive? That he needs our help?” Lance glares at him, and Keith shuts his mouth (thankfully) and opens the passenger door.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Lance asks the moment they hop into Lance’s car and head off to his crappy apartment. “Most people would’ve given up on looking for Shiro.” He backs out of the parking space and heads out. “I know I would’ve.”  _ But you didn’t. _

 

“Shiro has never given up on me, so I won’t give up on him either,” Keith  stubbornly replies. “Have you given up on him? You say you stopped looking for him, but did you give up on the idea that he is still alive?”

 

“I gave up,” Lance says, hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Keith, don’t misunderstand, I’m a  _ villain _ now. If any of my own enemies found that I had a weakness that was Shiro, I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am now. I gave up on Shiro for my own safety, and you should too.” He pulls his car into the left lane and look at the stars shining through the general smog of the city. It’s two in the morning. “We’re taking a detour, it’s too crowded to talk at my place.” Keith looks at Lance in confusion, but Lance looks forward and drives out of the city. “Did you eat?” 

 

Keith just looks at him blankly then narrows his eyes. “No, but I’m not hungry for food.” 

 

“I am.” Lance hums, looking into the rear view mirror for any cars behind him and drifts his car into the opposite lane to the McDonalds. “I have some money, you don’t want any chicken nuggets?” Keith looks at the bills Lance pulls out of his pocket, lips tilting up in a small smirk. Keith knows where Lance got that money. Lance doesn’t hide that fact.

 

“…Fine,” Keith says. “But we’re talking about this.” 

 

Lance pulls up in the drive-through and places their orders. “You made that point clear,” he replies. Once he pays and gets their food, he sees Keith pull his phone out to the lowest brightness from the corner of Lance’s eyes. On his phone, he sees a picture of a green officer uniform and a bright smile that Lance knows like the back of his hand.

 

“Let’s head out now.” With a hard press to the acceleration, Lance heads into the outskirts of Aquis and sees the sky clear to stars and constellations. 

 

It’s only a moment of silence before Keith starts to speak again. “I don’t understand why you never got accepted.” Lance drives past fields of green owned by farmers and towards the nearest lake. The vapour in the air hums and sings in happiness as Lance heads there.

 

“Water is less destructive than fire, I guess.”

 

“That’s stupid.” Keith sees the sky clear up from the dirty window of Lance’s car and his eyes shine. “Water is the source of everything. It can be the beginning of everything, and the destruction of everything.” 

 

Lance doesn’t reply until they reach an empty spot beside Lake Ceto. Keith knows that he agrees.

 

“You should stop looking for Shiro,” Lance says, gripping the steering wheel once he turns the ignition off. Lance opens the door to his car and his feet lead him to the lake. Ice spreads under Lance’s feet the moment he steps onto the water, but Keith stays behind. “People know you from the Garrison as the kid who Shiro taught. There are the rumors about you being  _ on par _ with Shiro. If anyone finds out that you’re alive and looking for him, or that you’re bothering  _ me _ about it, then we’ll both be in trouble.” 

 

“I’ll never stop,” Keith says vehemently, following Lance after a moment. “As long as I’m alive, as long as I know that he is still strong enough to be alive, I will never stop looking for Shiro.” His eyes blaze and the grass starts to singe at his feet as he walks to where Lance stood. “Shiro wouldn’t have given up on me, I know it.” 

 

“Give up,” Lance hisses. “No one will help you with this search because it’s fruitless.” 

 

“Never,” Keith replies, just as fiercely. “You’re going to help me, because I know that you care about Shiro more than you let off. You have to help me, Lance. You’re the only one who can have any idea about where he is.”

 

Lance looks at the sky, hears the gentle hum of the water lull him to sleep. He closes his eyes as he falls back and lands on the ground. “You got some spunk, Keith,” Lance says, tired and bitter of the realization that Keith won’t give up. “Too bad that the Garrison didn’t get to pull that out from you.” 

 

“So… what are you talking about?” Keith furrows his eyebrows. Lance rolls back to land, to where Keith stands defensively. 

 

“I guess we can find Shiro,” Lance hums noncommittally, as if his heart wasn’t racing at the thought of saving his hero. “I have some calls to make then, if we really wanted to pull through with this.” When Lance’s eyes make contact with Keith’s, the latter’s eyes sparkled in excitement. 

 

Lance grins.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

——

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Lotor was a villain commonly known for his planned attacks against the people in the city of Aquis. On the rare occasion, he and Lance would band together if their motives were to align. Lance was obsessed with taking down the Garrison. 

 

Lotor was obsessed with ruling the country. 

 

Lance knows that he could rule the entire universe, if he was given the chance.

 

No one really knows if Lotor is his real name, or the real names of his squadron that usually pulls most of his more… malicious jobs. Ezor was a good friend of Lance’s after he joined Lotor’s legion when he first started out. The two of them meshed well together, and she taught him hand to hand combat skills that he eventually learned to incorporate into his hydrokinesis. Narti was quiet, but after a lot of prodding and cuddles to her cat, she finally gave in and taught Lance some Useful Stealth Moves™. (Though the patience ran out quick when Lance realized that Narti actually needed her cat to see, and that Lance kept on taking it away to play with). Zethrid and Axca taught Lance good skills as well, but Ezor was the one who connected most with them. 

 

Six months after he joined, and after Narti’s unfortunate death, Lance dropped out of their group and went on to do his own thing. Lotor didn’t hold any grudges, because they often found each other in expensive hotel rooms anyways every few weeks. 

 

He looks at Lotor’s number on his burner phone. 

 

He presses call, and the line rings twice before he hears a familiar voice pick up. 

 

“I’ve been expecting this,” Lotor answers. 

 

“I need your help, Emperor,” Lance purrs, then laughs. “Remember that favour you owed me?” 

 

“Lance, you’re a dear friend,” Lotor muses back, “But you know I have rates, even when dealing back favours.”

 

“Of course.” 

 

It’s a game of cat and mouse, of who will end up successful in their endeavors. Thankfully, it’s a scripted game and they know who will come out victorious. Lotor talks suavely and veils threats under his words while Lance speaks brightly but he knows that Lotor knows what he has under his sleeve. 

 

In the end, Lance calls Keith and tells him that they have a meeting with a friend. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

–

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Keith’s reaction to Lotor was to be expected, but it didn’t make it any less funnier the moment the Emperor walked into the room, with his pristine suits and styled hair, Keith’s jaw immediately dropped. In the first moments of the meeting, all that was heard was Lance’s laughter and Keith’s surprised babble. Lotor only rose a finger and gestured for an assistant to get the three of them some water. 

 

“You didn’t tell me your connection was Lotor,” Keith hisses, the moment Lotor turns to Axca to whisper directions in her ear. “I thought it was some other villain in your rank, not one of the tops villains that not even the heroes on stealth missions can get close to.”

 

“Pardon my interruption, Mr. Kogane,” Lotor hums, lips tilting up into a smirk as he sees Keith’s spine straighten in surprise. “But I will soon be the top villain in this country, hopefully the continent and the world as well in a few years, but I can only achieve so much under my parents ruling.” Lance holds back a smile while his words process through Keith’s mind.

 

Keith chokes on his water the moment the words click. “Your– your parents?” Keith exclaims, “Zarkon and Haggar– you’re– they–!” 

 

“Yes, and yes,” Lotor answers simply, lips turning up into a small smirk. “By Lance’s laughter here, I guess he didn’t tell you.” Lance snorts, seeing Keith’s look of betrayal towards him. 

 

“So,” Lance coughs into his hand. “Do you have any information about Takashi Shirogane?” He purposely avoids Keith’s gaze, glaring daggers into the side of his head and avoiding Lotor’s interested gaze entirely. Lance looks back at Lotor, mischief dancing around in his eyes and arms reaching back to tie his hair up and out of his face. 

 

“You mean Supernova?” Lotor muses. He snaps a finger, and a moment later Axca enters the room with a small file. “He disappeared a year ago, good for the people who need to get stuff done, but also pretty disheartening since he was a fan favourite of ours. Top of our polls. If you came earlier, you would see the fights that would emerge just to see who was powerful enough to defeat him.” Lotor places the folder on the glass table. Lance stops Keith’s arm, which reaches out to grab it. Keith looks back at him, sees the shaking of Lance’s head, and sits back once again.

 

“Have you heard of his real name circulating in the past year? Or, rather, past few months?” Keith asks. Lance can already see the fact that he’s squirming in his seat under Lotor’s golden gaze. “You have the largest communication hub in the country, and you’re the child of the two most powerful villains to walk the earth—”

 

“I was disowned from a young age,” Lotor says curtly, eyes narrowing. “The position I am right now is because of my own achievements, not my parents.” 

 

“Sorry,” Keith grumbles. “Can you just tell us if you heard of his name or not?”

 

Lance sends a sharp look to Keith, who’s already crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “What do you need from us?” he asks, and Lotor’s eyes glint in the white LED lights of his business office. Keith looks at him in confusion. 

 

“Is your partner here a part of the deal?” For the first time during the conversation, Lotor leans back in his chair and crosses his legs, setting his arms on the rests and intertwining his fingers together. “If not, then I doubt that you have anything at the moment that will provide any usefulness to me as of now.”

 

“What are the terms and conditions for Keith?” Lance asks, mirroring Lotor’s actions and posture, narrowing his eyes. “He’s an important team member, I don’t see why I should give him to you unless you have anything useful.”

 

“This folder is fairly useful,” Lotor hums, tilting his head to look at Keith directly. “I’m guessing that your mother comes from a distant line of powerful pyrotechnics, am I correct?”

 

“Uh, I don’t know,” Keith replies, quite eloquently. “I was abandoned as a kid.” 

 

“You have purple eyes,” Lotor whispers. “Incredible.” 

 

“If Keith agrees to be your toy for a day,” Lance interrupts as he sees Lotor inching closer to inspect Keith further, “Will you stand with us against your parents? And help us find Shiro?” 

 

“My dearest,” Lotor purrs, “I wouldn’t even want to make a deal if it meant a chance to take my parents down.” 

 

“Good,” Lance says, then he turns to Keith. “What do you say? We can find something else to trade, but it’s just a day with Lotor— and it isn’t  _ that _ bad.” Lance winks. Keith’s jaw drops. 

 

“I— just…f _ ine _ .” Keith huffs. “I’ll stay with you for a day.” 

 

“You won’t regret it,” Lotor hums, then opens the folder. “It’s more entertaining for you two to find out yourselves.” He takes out a picture, a blurred photo of a large man with a white tuft of white hair and a muzzle on his face. “There’s a fight happening tomorrow night featuring this man, and I think you’ll find the information from him very useful.”

 

“Thanks, Emperor,” Lance says, and Keith tightens his fists. “You won’t regret giving us this chance.” 

 

“Good luck finding him,” Lotor replies, but the look on his face darkens. “Be careful out there, Lance. If people find out that you’re doing this…” 

 

“I know,” Lance replies. “It’s playing with fire, but it’s a good thing that I have water.” 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

——

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Keith walks silently into the crowded underground bar with the makeshift fighting ring set up in the middle. "I can't believe Lotor wasn't lying about this."

 

"You're going to be his little minion for a few days," Lance muses, looking at Keith through his mask. "If he didn't give us the true shit, then the deal would be broken. Lotor doesn't break promises- and if he did, I have some very harmful knowledge that would <i>terribly</i> hurt his reputation." Lance smiles a bright smile that doesn't reach his eyes and Keith inhales a sharp breath. 

 

"You've only been gone for a <i>year,"</i> Keith hisses. "How do you have so much power?"

 

"People tend to be more vulnerable to those who they try to kill." Lance winks. "My nickname here in the community is the Black Cat." At the mention of his nickname, a few people turn around to grin and wave at him. Lance waves  back. “Don’t trust any of them,” Lance whispers, voice sharp but eyes friendly. 

 

"Hey! Lookie here, a little cat wandered in a little fight." A bigger man donned in dark purples and blacks and, who Lance realizes as Thace, teases and ruffles a part of Lance's hair. "I thought you weren't into these fighting scenes."

 

"I'm not." Lance winks, "But this pretty little thing here is." Internally, Lance apologizes to Keith; externally, though, he wraps his arms around Keith's shoulder and pulls him close. "I met him and saved him out in the battle field the other day, and he confessed that he wanted to go on a date. Who was I to deny him some of <i>this?"</i> Lance gestures to his entire body and sends a single finger gun to Keith. 

 

Thank god Keith knows when to act along, maybe the Garrison did teach him something. Lance does question if being fake is really a good trait, though.

 

Thace laughs, a big hearty one. "You've been so obsessed with finding Supernova, ever since you joined us. I'm glad you're going out and meeting new people!" Lance feels Keith look at him in curiosity. He avoids the pyrokinetic's gaze, and laughs. 

 

"So you still don't know who Dark Matter is, right?” Ulaz drawls, sliding up beside Thace and wrapping an arm around the latter’s waist. “He’s been the hottest news since Supernova disappeared, since both happened at the same time.”

 

“Nah.” Lance shrugs. “Don’t really care, but Fire here definitely wanted to see.” Keith nods. Ulaz looks at him scrutinizingly. “Fi, this is Ulaz and Thace. Guys, meet my date for the night.” 

 

“Nice to meet you.” Ulaz straightens up, and looks straight into Keith’s purple eyes. “Purple, huh?” Keith nods. “Pyro?”

 

“That’s why my name is Fire,” He replies tersely. 

 

“You learned from the Garrison?” Thace asks, reaching out to shake Keith’s hand. When Keith reaches out to grab Thace’s hand, the latter pulls him close. “Those people are bullshit. You should come with us to train, their training is kid’s play compared to what we do at Marmora.”

 

“What’s Marmora?” Keith asks, “I’m, uh, kind of new to the scene.” Lance  tucks his head into Keith’s hair to hide his snickers at Thace and Ulaz’s jaw dropped expressions. 

 

“Marmora is for pyros,” Lance replies, “some of the greatest train there, lots of testing of your endurance and <i>super</i> hard to get into. You would probably fit right in there, Fi.” 

 

Keith straightens up and looks at the two of them with a bright expression. “Can I join? I hated the Garrison, they treated me like I was Supernova.” Lance tightens his grip on Keith. “Or something like him.” 

 

Lance pulls his arm away from Keith’s waist and makes his way out. “I’ll go find us some spots, Fi. You can talk to these two while I go.” He leans close to press his lips to Keith’s cheek. “Don’t be reckless.” 

 

Keith nods, and Lance makes his exit to scope out the place.

 

Two exits, a bouncer who makes his rounds around the club every ten minutes, and guards around the ring and a room with a dark curtain covering the entrance. Lance has a feeling he knows where that door leads to. 

 

But it’s a battle for another day. He looks at the watch on his hand and adjusts his tie on his suit. The match will start in ten minutes. 

 

He finds a seat and sits down. Keith finds him a moment with an enlightened look to his face and starstruck like a child. A bell rings, and the opponents enter the rings from two ends.

 

Lance eyes the fighters standing in front of him, Dark Matter dressed in dark ratty clothes while he wore a mask-- one that looked more like a muzzle that covered his face, asides from his eyes and was barred in front of his mouth. Ice Wave was mediocre, his fighting style sloppy and not as delicate as his own perfected state. 

 

But, Lance spent too much time practicing, so he can't really compare his own powers to Ice Wave’s. Besides, Lance knows how powerful he is compared to Ice Wave. After all, the latter tried to challenge Lance to see who was stronger. 

 

Ice Wave hasn't gotten in Lance's way since.

 

Dark Matter hasn't made a move yet, expertly dodging Ice Wave's hits. The ratty clothes refuse to give some shape to his figure, and the only thing that was truly visible was the white forelock that belonged to Dark Matter but....

 

"Doesn't he look familiar?" Keith asks, leaning in close to Lance and whispering in his ear. "Like... Dark Matter... the way he moves seems more like--"

 

"Shiro," Lance whispers, and Keith follows Lance's gaze right to the moment that Dark Matter's fist connected with Ice Wave's signature attack. It wasn't noticeable under the ratty clothes, but there's a shiny, new, silver prosthetic arm that turned a bright purple the moment Dark Matter activated his power. 

 

Which was exactly like Shiro's-- which was molecular deconstruction. Lance couldn't believe it. No one else in the world had anything even similar to Shiro's power, so unless they perfected the art of copying superpowers--

 

Shiro was  _ here _ all along? Did that make sense to Lance? No! 

 

The heat in the room instantly chills, and for a moment Ice Wave freezes up (ironically) and he looks in Lance's direction. His eyes widen, and the crowd starts to cheer, seemingly thinking that the entire chill was from the smaller villain. Lance looks at Ice Wave in the eyes, nods, and tilts his head towards Dark Matter's. 

 

_ Fight him. _

 

Ice Wave turns back around and looks back at Shiro, dodges a punch from the expert hero-now-ring-fighter, and looks back at Lance with incredibility.  _ I can’t do that! _

 

Then, for a moment, Lance feels the water in the air sing and Lance closes his eyes, listening to their song, listens to the way that Ice Wave forces them to come with them with a song that's too harsh for their liking. Lance shakes his head and helps his <i>somewhat</i> comrade. Keith is gripping the armrest of the chair beside him while Lance turns his finger and sings a low song-- and the air shifts.

 

And all of a sudden, the air around the audience chills immediately as Ice Wave throws his arms up to protect from Shiro's attack; his eyes are shut tight and waiting for the feeling of his molecules break and his body basically fall apart. But that never comes, and between both Shiro and Ice Wave...

 

Was a wall of black ice. 

 

The crowd  _ screams, _ all of them knowing who the signature black ice belongs to. "We have to go," Lance says as he turns away to run out of his seat, throwing his mask off and yanking his jacket on. Keith is already rushing out of his seat and matching Lance's quick pace. "They're what you consider the bad guys, but they don't like cheaters." 

 

"Why did you do that?" Keith demanded. "You're famous around here! Hell, if Lotor knows you, then everyone knows you too!" The edges of Keith's outfit is shown from under his regular clothes, and Lance snorts. 

 

"People know you too, but you dressed in your Firestrom outfit under your clothes," Lance hisses back. "You were getting ready for a fight, and I was ready to help an acquaintance." They look at each other for a couple seconds before Keith turns away. 

 

"Whatever." He huffs, and they leave the crowd silently as they jumble and run around to find Miser. But by the time they find his mask, they’re down the highway and drunk off the adrenaline. Lance’s laughter echoes in the dead of the night, while Keith plugs his phone in the aux cord and blasts his music. 

  
  
  
  


 

 

—

  
  
  


 

 

 

“So what are we going to do?” Keith asks, still on his high from the rush back to Lance’s place. “We know where Shiro is, but we sure as hell can’t break in there right now and get him out. We’re unprepared!”

 

“Wow,” Lance muses. “Keith Kogane, also known as Firestrom, local pyrokinetic, local hothead who set an entire operation at risk because he rushed in, is talking to me about being unprepared?” Lance feels his silly expression drop. “We like our entertainment. You saw the rage that the others had when I ruined the fight. If we come in, guns blazing, we’ll die.” 

 

“So what are we going to do?” 

 

“Call our connections.” Lance grins, and Keith smiles. 

  
  
  
  


 

 

——

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

The sight in front of Lance is hilarious, in his opinion. On one side of the living room in Lance’s apartment, Pidge and Hunk sit staring at Lotor, who’s sitting directly across from them. Keith is brooding in a small arm chair that Lance bought with the extra money. 

 

“So, Pidge and Hunk, nice to see you again.” The two of them nod, still looking at Lotor nervously. “Meet Lotor, business C.E.O. and also third most powerful dude in the country. You guys already know Keith, anyways.” Lance sits on a crappy, IKEA foldable chair and looks at each one of them. 

 

“Let me just say this clearly. I called you guys here so that we can decide on how to take down Haggar and Zarkon and bring back Shiro.”  

 

“What’s the plan?” Hunk asks. 

 

“Well, uh,” Lance rubs the back of his neck. “I was kind of thinking that you and Hunk take care of contacting the Garrison. You guys will stay in your dorms, of course, but I know you have the equipment to watch us from the club and stuff.” 

 

“Sounds good.” Hunk nods. Pidge shakes in her seat in excitement. 

 

“Can we try some new ear pieces that I’m working on?” Pidge begs, “They aren’t faulty or anything, I promise!”

 

“Go for it, bud.” Lance smiles at his friend, then turns to Lotor. “And, uh, since the next match is in a month or so, are you able to get any other contacts who want to take your parents down?” 

 

Lotor leans back in his own chair and smirks. “Lance, my entire empire is based off hate for my parents. Don’t worry.”

 

“And that leaves… Keith.” Lance turns to the pyrokinetic, and thinks about how a couple months ago, he and Lance weren’t even friends. Now? Now they are planning on destroying two villains who ruled the crime world for too long. “You’re flashy, you can be the distraction.”

 

“And what will you do?” Keith asks, though the answer is clear in everyone’s minds. 

 

“I’ll be the hero.” Everyone smiles, and they all lean together to plan it more thoroughly.

 

A couple hours later, with some drinks provided, a screaming contest, and a half-naked couple bursting through Lance’s door, they all have their roles set. 

 

“Do you realize that, if this plan works, Shiro will be back?” Hunk asks. “You can tell him how you feel— you can be his saviour!”

 

“Hunk.” Lance sighs, smiling up at his friend who’s looking back at him in excitement. “That, by any circumstance, can <i>not</i> happen. Do you know what would happen if the Garrison caught me? I’d be dead. Or I’d be arrested before I can even explain, nevermind talk to Shiro before.” 

 

“Why not? You’ve changed, Lance.” Hunk’s features soften and Lance is pulled into a giant hug from his best friend. “You should tell him, no matter what.”

 

“He’s a hero, Hunk,” Lance complains. “Me? I turned into the villain. I chose this life. ” 

 

“You’re the one who says you’re a villain, you literally know what you’re doing is wrong, but why do you keep on doing it?” Hunk frowns. “You can change, quit doing this. You left the Garrison because of their wrongs, but they need to change. Not you.”

 

“Hunk… I just can’t go back.” Lance shakes his head. “If I go back to them, it shows that I’m just falling into their traps still. On my side, here? With Lotor and Thace and Ulaz and Ice Wave? We all hate the Garrison because we know what’s really going on. I’ll think about changing my ways, but you can’t make me go back to the Garrison.”

 

Hunk stays silent. Lance walks away.

  
  


 

 

 

——

 

 

 

 

 

Lance thinks of the Garrison as they near the arena. According to Pidge’s voice in his ear, the fight is about to start in five. 

 

They have three minutes to get inside. 

 

Lance thinks of the Garrison, of the night before he left and of Dos Santos and Montgomery talking in a hall too dark and too hidden from the students. He thinks back on the so-called advisors, and thinks of how fucking  _ moronic _ they are. 

 

_ He’s chasing after a ghost. _

 

_ That McClain boy doesn’t know what’s going to hit him. He’s turning out to be a bigger threat than we originally thought. D’you think that we should’ve accepted him? _

 

_ Kogane is more of a risk than some hydrokinetic.  _

 

_ Kogane isn’t the one who has superb control over his pyrokinesis.  _

 

_ We’ll talk about this later, Montgomery.  _

 

Lance steps inside the underground scene. Pidge is talking in his ear but he sees, right in front of him, Takashi Shirogane with his muzzle off. “Pidge, I’m rushing in,” He says, before tearing his earpiece off and running to tackle him down. 

 

Haggar meets his eyes. 

 

Shiro moves to block Lance’s attack. 

 

And the club turns into chaos.

 

Lance leaps out of the way when Shiro charges forward, eyes bright yellow without a sight of the whites of his eyes- eyes Lance hasn’t seen in over a year. The moment Shiro’s fist clumsily lands against the metal pole of the arena, the entire thing crackles and crumbles down in shards. 

 

Lance swallows, and dodges another messy attack that nearly lands on his abdomen. 

 

“Shiro, it’s me!” He tries to yell, to get him to remember <i>anything</i> “I know you, you <i>knew me!</i> We were classmates back in the Garrison.” His hands shoot out to form a wall of ice to block another hit that Shiro tries to land, but the ice unfreezes and melts into a puddle on the ground. Shiro growls, and Lance feels desperate as he sees Keith fighting off the other villains in the room. Zarkon and Haggar in the corner, silently watching. He sees the corner of Zarkon’s lips turn up, and Lance wants to _kill them._

 

He sees a purple flash and there’s Shiro’s metal arm, zipping past his face and nicking the corner of his mask. 

 

The entirety of it disintegrates and Lance’s face is shown– 

 

                   To the World,

 

                                     To Shiro, 

 

                                                   And to Zarkon and Haggar. 

 

For a moment, Shiro’s eyes flicker in recognition and Lance takes a wary step forward. The whites of his eyes are seen again, and his pupils are blown so wide that the greys of his irises are a thin rim around. “Shiro-” Lance starts, reaching out as Shiro is almost <i>t h e r e -</i>

 

“McClain…?” Shiro asks, voice strained. He’s fighting against Haggar, Lance can see. “W-what, I-” His arms stretch towards Lance with caution, but pulls away as his eyes flash between yellow and white sclera. “I don’t know what’s happening,” He forces out through gritted teeth. His stature is rigid, mind and body in conflict and Lance walks towards him, warily, until his body convulses and falls to the ground. 

 

“Shiro!” Lance reaches out and grabs him to help him get to his knees. “Fight against this, I believe in you.” He’s not looking at Lance, but his entire body is shaking. Lance looks to Haggar, who’s staring at the two of them with a smile under her hood. Lance curses.

 

“Lance.” Shiro’s head is in his hands, and Lance hovers over him worriedly. “I’m… _ perfectly fine.”  _ His head shoots up to give Lance a menacing grin, eyes a bright yellow and his arm shoots out to snag the bone of Lance’s right calf. 

 

It burns, and the feeling of his bones melting is something he doesn’t want to relive. As soon as the blood seeps out of his leg, he recreates the part of the leg he lost in ice. He still fights. 

 

He  _ needs _ to fight. 

 

Keith has called in the reinforcements, Zarkon and Haggar  _ will _ be taken down. They have to be. Lotor will be here soon, and so will the heroes association, Lance doesn’t trust heroes anymore, but in this case , he trusts them with his life. Tonight, they’ll be bringing down the greatest villains in the country. This will be a great moment of their decade. 

 

His vision goes dizzy as he tries to focus on his own blood to redirect away from gushing out of his leg, and the ice is freezing his bones and he really needs Keith to help him cauterize the wound. When Lance turns to call for help, Keith has moved past the enemies and is now fighting Haggar, removing her focus on Shiro. 

 

Shiro. 

 

Lance turns to his mind-controlled hero, the way he is stalking close to him with yellow eyes and a dark look to his face.

 

He throws his hands up, defends himself, and the heat of the battle before them seems to drop to a chilled temperature. 

 

A second passes. 

 

Lance doesn’t feel anything. 

 

When Lance opens his eyes, the yellow that clouds Shiro’s beautiful grey eyes fades away, and Lance takes the chance to grab his body and drag him as far as he can within the club. It’s like the moment stills, and Lance takes in Shiro’s features. Obviously, he’s changed. 

 

"You're as beautiful as the day I saw you leave," Lance whispers, a hand caressing Shiro's unconscious face as the fight rages on behind them. "I won't let anyone hurt you anymore, Shiro. I would rather die than let you suffer anymore." 

 

_ "Lance!" _ Lance hears Keith yell, and Lance winces at the realization that he's freezing to the bone, literally. "You have to go, like,  _ now!” _ Lance frowns, feels the songs of the water surrounding him get pulled and he realizes that the hero squad is coming. "We can handle it, but you can't get caught, dude."

 

They wouldn't accept Lance if they see him, so he leaves Shiro and Keith behind. He runs warm hands over Shiro's shivering body and feels his own temperature run a little too warm. “I love you,” Lance says, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s, and he leaves. 

 

“Miser, run!” 

 

Moments after, the Garrison appears along with Lotor’s group. Zarkon and Haggar are caught by surprise, and Lotor claims his turf. 

 

They win. 

 

And Lance isn’t there.

  
  
  
  


–

  
  
  
  
  


Shiro wakes up in the Garrison hospital with Keith sleeping at his side. His memories are blurry, but he remembers wrangled screams and blue eyes that freezes his very core. He thinks about what he was last doing, but all he thinks about is a cold on his hands and a hit to the back of his head as his eyes clear. 

 

He hears the sounds of walls breaking down and the yell of Iverson, of Keith, Dos Santos, and Montgomery. He hears all the same words he expects in a rescue, where he is the one getting rescued Shiro assumes. But Keith’s voice yells out words in the midst of battle with Zarkon and Haggar. 

 

_ Miser, run! _

 

There’s a hand that runs through his hair after, and the cold disappears and the heat of battle engulfs Shiro before he knocks out. 

 

Well, that’s all he remembers. 

 

“Keith,” Shiro tries to say, throat dry and voice croaking out, “Keeeeeeith.” 

 

The young hero looks at him with bleary, unfocused eyes before realizing the situation. “Shiro!” He exclaims. “Holy shit, I thought I lost you, Pidge wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up anytime soon and Allura literally passed out in trying to heal all your wounds, since most of them were about to become fatal. Hunk and Pidge literally had to rewire your arm so it wouldn’t get controlled by anyone other than you, and the past few days have been so stressful since Lance disappeared—”

 

“Wait.” Shiro holds a weakened arm up to stop Keith’s rambles. “I know the three other people, but who’s Lance?” The name sounds familiar, but his memory is so blurry that he can’t place the face to the name just yet. “Was he part of the rescue mission for me? I should thank him.” Keith looks around the room worriedly, pulling out a piece of paper and a small pen. 

 

In his writing, still neat and perfect as always, Keith writes down,  _ he led the rescue plan, essentially. _

 

Shiro furrows his eyes. “Then why isn’t he here?” Keith shakes his head, and wrote down a few more words. 

 

_ Don’t say anything about him, he’s in hiding and the Garrison thinks he’s dead. _ He burns the paper in his hand and pressing a finger to his lips. Shiro nods. “Thanks for saving me.” Shiro says. 

 

“It’s no problem.” Keith replies, and they sit there in silence. 

 

Shiro is thankful. 

  
  


 

 

——

 

 

 

 

Shiro hears Keith outside his door, three days later. 

  
  
“What do you mean he isn’t found?” Keith hisses. “I thought he called you guys as soon as he got home free?” 

  
  
“He broke the burner phone after he called, then moved locations, Keith,” Pidge growls back. “He isn’t stupid when it comes to running, that’s how he got so far up the ranks and avoid the Garrison’s supervision.”

  
  
“Pidge…” Hunk, another cadet in the Garrison, says. “You’re too loud.”

  
  
“We have to go look for him,” Keith demands. “He froze his leg after Shiro melted it off during the fight, he could be dying right now.”

  
  
The memory hits Shiro like a brick. 

  
  
He sees blue eyes, cold and frigid like the Arctic Ocean, looking at him in determination. “Lance,” Shiro whispers. 

  
  
“Keith!” Hunk whines, “Shiro is just right there!”

 

“He’ll remember Lance sooner or later, Hunk,” Pidge hums. “Though, he’s probably awake right now.” And the door slides open.

 

They all stare at Shiro. Shiro stares back.   


 

“So,” Shiro says, “when are we going to go and save him?”   
  


“You aren’t going anywhere,” Keith exclaims. “You’re still healing!” Shiro glowers back at Keith, who stares back at him in stubborn refusal. “You’re not going,” Keith repeats himself.    
  
  
  
\--   
  
  
  
Shiro ends up coming with them to Lance’s apartment in the slums of the city.    
  
“He saved my life, Keith,” Shiro says to his scowling friend. “If there’s anything wrong, I would want to save him like he did for me.”   
  
“He would’ve done it in a heartbeat,” Keith grumbles. “Stupid Shiro.”   


They reach Lance’s apartment in minutes, see the door blown open and a dry trail of a dark substance lead inside. Shiro swallows down a breath, and the four of them step inside the ratty, slightly smelly apartment.   
  


The lights are off, but there’s a single stream of sunlight from a broken window that barely illuminates anything. Which is kind of scary, since it’s four in the afternoon.    
  


“Lance?” Keith calls out. “Lance, where are you?”   
  


“M’fine,” A slurred voice  calls out. “Go see Sh-” A sneeze, and the voice turns even more gravely. “Go see Shiro.” Shiro’s heart races in his chest.    
  


“Lance...” Pidge walks forward and searches around the room. “Shiro is okay, he’s going to be okay. Where are you?”   
  


“Don’t worry about mee...” Lance trails, “M’fine.”   
  


“Lance, I cooked your favourite food.” Hunk follows after Pidge, walking into a hall where the bathroom and bedroom, assumably, is located. “Where are you? I need to give it.”   
  


“Nooooo,” Lance whines. “Hunk, give it to Shiro. I’ll be fine by m’self, been doin’ it for a year.”    
  


“...Lance?” Shiro calls, timidly. “I wanted to thank you for saving me.”   
  


A beat of silence, and Lance lets out a high whine from wherever he is. “No fair, Pidge! Don’t- don’t use that on me. Fool me once… fool me… once, shame on m-me.” Then a distance sound of teeth chattering. “Fool me.. T-twice! Shame on yooou.”    
  


Shiro flushes at the fact that Pidge used his voice before to get Lance to do something. “It’s really me, Lance. Just tell us where you are so we can help you.”   
  


“...Bathroom.”    
  


The four of them run there so quick that Pidge nearly trips on a floorboard, Shiro rams his hip against the broken marble island in the middle of the room, and Hunk breaks Lance’s bathroom door by opening it too fast.   
  


The scene in front of them is heart-stopping.    
  


Lance, in a soaked tux with frost running up his arms and in his hair, in a warm tub with the water turned pink from his leg. “You found me,” Lance says.    
  


And he passes out.    
  


Shiro looks at his hero, at the pale face and sunken eyes.    
  


Shiro sees power and courage. He sees bravery, and care. His body is moving before he can process it, and in his arms is a shivering Lance.    
  


A frozen Miser.    
  


“I’m going to save you,” Shiro promises. “Just how you saved me.”   
  


They head back to the general hospital where Pidge’s brother works as a doctor, and they wait for hours on end until they know that Lance will be saved from the overwork.    
  


“Because of Shiro here and his overpowered shit,” Matt sighs, “Lance won’t be getting his leg back. However, I can try to pull some strings and see if I can get him fitted for a prosthesis.”    
  


“That’d help a lot,” Shiro says, “If you need money, I’ll pay for it.”   
  


“Our little friend here seems to have everything in his wallet,” Matt says, pulling out Lance’s wallet and waving it around. “I’m not going to assume where he got this, but this is enough for at least the fitting and a first payment. “Is he that important that you’ll pay for him?” Matt asks.    
  


Shiro looks at where Lance’s room is, and thinks about it.    
  


“He’s my hero,” He says.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was beta'd by the great @mettaverse and when i get on my laptop ill be sure to link her profile LMFAO
> 
> twitter: haarucchii  
> tumblr: not-my-shiro


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